


Solid gold, how could we miss?

by givebackmylifecas



Series: berlin the cat [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Berlin lives, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nairobi lives, jelous!berlin, martín has a cat, oblivious!palermo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: Andrés goes in for a hug, but jumps back when Martín’s fur collar suddenly moves and hisses.“What the fuck is that?”Martín lifts the collar – creature – off his neck and strokes it. “It’s a cat, his name is Berlin.”“I beg your pardon?” Andrés asksAlternate version of season 3 where Andrés is alive and Martín arrives at the monastery with a pet cat
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Helsinki | Mirko Dragic & Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: berlin the cat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993444
Comments: 36
Kudos: 207





	Solid gold, how could we miss?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klembek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klembek/gifts).



> I have nothing to say for myself, but I promised this to my clamb Klembek ages ago so... have a fic where Martín owns a cat that hates Andrés.  
> No TWs for once, this is as non-angsty as i can go.  
> Title from The Cure's song "The Lovecats"

When Sergio returns to the monastery with Martín in tow, Andrés is still in his dressing gown. The rest of the gang are strewn about the kitchen having breakfast in similar forms of undress – Tokyo is practically naked in just a tank-top and underwear, and Andrés wonders how she isn’t freezing to death.

“Everyone, meet your new team member,” Sergio says as Martín puts his bags on the floor. “His name is Palermo and he’s one of the original creators of the plan to rob the Bank of Spain.”

Martín waves as everyone says hello, his eyes studiously avoiding Andrés. That just makes it easier for Andrés to study him, which suits him. Martín looks tired, there are dark circles under his eyes and he looks thinner than when Andrés last saw him, when he… left him. He’s wearing a jacket with a dark fur collar that does not look very expensive and Andrés wonders if his friend has resorted to shopping in second hand stores.

Andrés decides to just act as if the last five years hadn't happened and gets to his feet, crossing the room to stand in front of Martín. “Palermo,” he says, rolling the unfamiliar name across his tongue. “It’s good to see you again.”

He goes in for a hug, but jumps back when Martín’s fur collar suddenly moves and hisses.

“What the fuck is that?” Denver, who’s sitting closest to them, asks.

Martín lifts the collar – creature – off his neck and strokes it. “It’s a cat, his name is Berlin.”

“I beg your pardon?” Andrés asks as the kitchen erupts into laughter. The surge in noise doesn’t seem to bother the creature, which Martín is cradling on its back like an infant.

Martín looks confused. “Well I wasn’t going to leave him behind and when Ser- uh, I mean the Professor said everyone had city names I thought it was lucky he was already called Berlin.”

Tokyo sniggers into her toast. “Yeah, but that name’s already taken.”

“By whom?” Martín asks. Andrés clears his throat and Martín looks affronted. “Why did you call yourself Berlin?”

Andrés feels his hackles rise at how aggressive Martín sounds. “Why did you call your cat, Berlin?”

“Because that’s where-” Martín starts before cutting himself off. “You know what, fuck you. Professor am I still in the same room as before?”

Sergio nods and Martín puts the cat back on his shoulder before grabbing his bag and storming off.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” Bogota says and Andrés scowls at him as everyone starts asking questions about Martín.

It’s obviously not true. Martín has changed, on the outside and on the inside. He never would have greeted Andrés like that a few years ago. Andrés returns to his seat and Sergio follows him, inserting himself between his brother and Raquel.

“Are you going to go after him?” he asks Andrés, quietly enough that the others can’t hear.

Andrés pours himself more coffee. “Why would I?”

Sergio sighs. “There was a time you two were inseparable.”

“That was before you decided he was too unstable and made me leave him!” Andrés hisses, returning to his toast and steadfastly ignoring any more of Sergio’s attempts to talk to him. He instead snaps at Bogota when he starts making fun of Andrés’ singing at his last wedding.

“Ew, I can’t believe you sang!” Nairobi says.

Andrés pinches the bridge of his nose. “You all know I’ve been married five times, I’m a great romantic.”

Tokyo scoffs and Stockholm looks sceptical so Andrés just decides to ignore all of them.

After breakfast Sergio tells them all to go get dressed and Andrés disappears to the sanctity of his room. It was still comfortingly similar to how he had left it and when Andrés has dressed to the satisfaction of his usual standards, he feels ready to take on Martín and all the idiots in the gang.

When he gets to the room Sergio has co-opted as a classroom, he feels a pang of… something – certainly not jealousy – when he sees Martín perched on the desk in front of Helsinki, watching the big man hold his wretched cat.

“He’s so cute,” Helsinki is saying, tickling the cat’s chin with one large finger.

Martín smiles, what seems like a genuine smile. “He likes you.”

“He’s a lot nicer than human Berlin,” Helsinki grins. “Funny how they both have the same name, huh?”

Martín’s smile wavers. “Yeah, funny.”

“What are you staring at?” Denver asks Andrés, suddenly appearing behind him.

Andrés scowls, sweeping into the room to stand by the blackboard. “I wasn’t staring at anything, Denver. I’m just worried how appropriate it is to have animals in here while we’re planning a heist.”

“About that,” Sergio says, entering with Marseille who’s holding a cage. “This is Sofia, she’ll be helping us when we’re in the bank.”

Andrés peers at the cage and sees a ferret, docilely lying inside. “Fantastic, now we’re running a petting zoo.”

* * *

The cat, Andrés refuses to call him by his name, quickly becomes the bane of his existence. It always seems to be watching him with its huge eyes, dark fur helping it blend into the shadows that were plentiful around the monastery.

It also seems to hate him. The few times he had endeavoured to stroke it, it just hissed at him. One time it even tried to swipe at him with its needle-sharp claws. Martín, of course, won’t hear a word against the stupid thing, just tells Andrés to grow up. Which, if Andrés is honest, he almost enjoys because it means Martín is actually talking to him about something that isn’t the heist.

In the classroom, when they’re explaining their masterplan, it’s almost like no time passed, like Andrés never left, never found out what it was like to kiss Martín. They share jokes, even if there aren’t any easy touches between them like there used to be, they roll their eyes at Sergio and the others, they extol the virtues of their plan. But when class is over, Martín seems to remember himself and distances himself from Andrés again.

Infuriatingly, he seems to enjoy spending time with Helsinki. Who is a good soldier, but unrefined, uninterested in the arts Andrés used to spend hours discussing with Martín. The fucking cat seems to like him too. Apart from Martín, Helsinki is the only one who is allowed to pick it up.

One evening, when he is returning from the cellar with wine for himself, Sergio, and Raquel, Andrés passes Martín’s room, the door to which is wide open. He stops when he looks inside and sees Martín sitting on the bed, watching as Helsinki plays with the cat and Stockholm’s child Cincinnati.

Martín is smiling down at them and something acidic bubbles in Andrés’ stomach as he watches.

“They’re cute, no?” Stockholm says, suddenly appearing at Andrés’ shoulder.

Andrés scowls. “Grown men aren’t cute.”

Stockholm gives him a knowing look. “I was talking about Cinci and Berlin-the-cat.”

Andrés just gives an exasperated sigh and storms off to Sergio’s room.

“What’s wrong with you?” his brother asks when Andrés enters the room. He and Raquel are sat on the bed and Andrés flings himself onto the only chair in the room. He holds out the wine and Raquel quickly grabs some glasses from the dresser.

“Personal relationships are still forbidden, right?” Andrés asks once he’s had a fortifying gulp of very expensive wine.

Sergio and Raquel exchange a look. “I think that’s a tricky rule to uphold considering Denver and Stockholm are married, Raquel and I are… uh, and everyone knows you’re my brother. Plus you and Martín,” Sergio starts.

“Martín and I are nothing!” Andrés interrupts.

Sergio holds up a pacifying hand. “I was just going to say that you were best friends.”

“Were,” Andrés emphasises.

Raquel gives him a look. “What happened? He seems a little crazy, but fine apart from that. Very clever, anyway.”

“My hermanito decided Martín was too unstable to do the mint heist once our bank plan was thrown out,” Andrés hisses.

“And that ruined your friendship?” Raquel asks, looking unconvinced.

Sergio eyes him. “I don’t know what happened, all I know is one day Martín was in the monastery and the next he was gone.”

Andrés gulps down more wine. “Because you wanted him to be gone.”

“You never told me how you convinced him to go.”

“Berlin?” Raquel asks. “What did you do?”

“Sergio told me Martín was in love with me,” Andrés says.

Raquel crosses her arms stubbornly, clearly unwilling to let the subject drop. “So you rejected him?”

“There’s more,” Sergio says, pushing his glasses up. “There has to have been.”

“Well I confronted him, told him I knew he loved me, and that he needed to move on.”

“Yeah we’ve covered that, keep going.” Raquel makes an impatient gesture.

Andrés scowls and drinks more wine. “And then I told him that I loved him too, that we were ninety-nine percent soulmates but I liked women too much, then we kissed and I left,” Andrés says, spitting the words out as quickly as he can.

Sergio is blinking owlishly at him and Raquel’s mouth has actually dropped open a little.

“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re such a dick.”

Sergio nods.

“Hermanito, really? You’re going to let her talk to me like that?” Andrés asks.

Sergio frowns. “I don’t let her do anything, she’s not a possession. And she’s right, you were an asshole.”

“You told me to do it!” Andrés protests.

“No,” Sergio says. “No, you can’t pin this on me. I thought you’d tell him that you couldn’t work with him because he had feelings for you. Not… not do that!”

“Oh, so just telling him I didn’t have feelings would have been better?”

“Yes!” Sergio and Raquel say simultaneously.

Andrés puts his glass down. “You’re both impossible. It’s water under the bridge now and anyway, I thought I was doing what’s best.”

“That’s what you thought was best?” Raquel demands.

Andrés gets to his feet, straightening his jacket. “In case you’ve forgotten, hermanita, I was dying. I didn’t want him to see that. Just telling him I didn’t return his feelings would never have been enough to make him let go.”

Raquel shakes her head. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let him go. You know now that you aren’t dying, at least not anytime soon.”

“It’s too late now for what ifs.”

“You could still apologise now, try and make it work,” Sergio says.

Andrés laughs. “Maybe there’s a romantic in you after all, hermanito. But no, whatever could have been is no longer an option. I’ll see you two in the morning.”

Sergio sighs, but both he and Raquel bid Andrés good night.

Andrés briefly debates going to speak to Martín, but decides against it. Like he said to Sergio, what good would it do now?

* * *

The rest of the week passes relatively uneventfully. Andrés continues to watch as Martín and Helsinki grow closer and closer. The cat continues to hiss at him whenever it sees him and has now started stealing his chair whenever he gets up and then refuses to be moved.

Raquel keeps sending Andrés what he’s sure she thinks are significant looks whenever he’s near Martín. On Sunday evening she corners him.

“I know you think you’re god’s gift to the world and can do no wrong, but even you can see that you hurt Palermo, right?” she asks.

Andrés crosses his arms. “He seems fine. He’s got that creature and Helsinki.”

Raquel scowls. “You are so blind. Everyone here has noticed how he looks at you, how he still hangs on your every word, how he looks upset when you ignore him. Go and talk to him! You won’t regret it.”

Before Andrés can respond that Martín is the one who’s ignoring him, Raquel is gone.

He returns to his room and after a couple of hours – and more than a couple of glasses of wine – he decides to go speak to Martín. After all, what’s the worst that can happen?

It’s not like he cares either way whether Martín still loves him or not, it means nothing to him. He wasn’t lying when he said that he thought they were soulmates, but they’d lived apart this long, maybe he was mistaken in his feelings.

He meanders into the hallway, a glass of wine in each hand and makes towards Martín’s room.

Maybe he’ll catch Martín in a good mood. As loathe as he is to admit it, Andrés really has missed him. He felt incomplete without him for the longest time.

He reaches Martín’s door and has just put one of the glasses down on a little ledge in the wall so he can knock when he hears Martín’s voice.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” Martín says, his voice hardly muffled by the thin door.

There’s a moan, which Andrés quickly identifies as Martín’s and then a voice that definitely isn’t Martín’s swearing.

“Yes, just like that, Helsinki,” Martín whines and Andrés feels the glass fall from his hand, ignoring how it shatters all over the floor.

He backs away from the door, trying to put as much distance as he can between himself and the sound of Martín having sex with Helsinki.

He stumbles out into the courtyard, his head spinning.

It’s not like he thought Martín had been celibate all these years – he certainly wasn’t when Andrés was married or engaged to his various wives. It’s just that it had never been anyone Andrés had known. They were one night stands and mostly Martín had them at the other person’s house. Andrés had certainly never heard Martín engaging in sexual activities with anyone else.

He sits on the dew-damp grass, for once not caring about ruining his expensive suit. He thinks about what he heard. Had Martín sounded like that when Andrés kissed him? It was different obviously, but still… He remembers how desperately Martín had clutched at his hair, the back of his neck.

It was ridiculous to think whatever… carnal desires he was pursuing with Helsinki could come even close to what he and Andrés had shared years ago. He and Martín had known each other forever, Andrés knew - had known - Martín better than anyone else. He had loved him more than any of his wives, of whom he had always managed to grow tired.

He looks up from the ground when he feels something furry brush past him. Martín’s cat is sitting in front of him, it’s ears back.

“Did he kick you out?” Andrés asks, momentarily forgetting that it’s ridiculous to talk to a cat. Especially one this evil. “Probably for the best, you’re too young to see that sort of thing.”

He laughs at his own joke and the cat just blinks at him. He cautiously stretches his hand out towards the cat, wary of getting swiped at again. This time the cat just pushes its head into his hand. He gently strokes its head, thumb automatically rubbing behind its ears.

The cat starts to purr and Andrés smiles. “Who’s a good boy?” he asks, before realising it can’t answer. He decides that it doesn’t matter that much and continues stroking the cat. “It’s you. You’re a very good boy, Berlin. And you have a very good name. Why did your papi call you that, huh? Do you know?”

The cat continues to purr until all of a sudden it pulls away from him and darts off.

“Goodnight to you too,” Andrés grumbles before getting to his feet and heading to bed.

* * *

He’s woken not nearly enough hours later by someone banging on his door. He stumbles out of bed and opens the door to see Martín standing in front of him.

“What?” Andrés asks and Martín scowls.

“I need you to drive me into town. Berlin is sick and I can’t hold him and drive at the same time!” Martín says.

Andrés frowns. “Why me? Can’t someone else do it?”

“No they cannot!” Martín hisses. “No one else knows the area and also, you’re the one Sergio entrusted the car keys to.”

Andrés steps back from the doorway, letting Martín enter the room properly. “You know I’m a wanted criminal, right? I can’t just be seen jetting around Italy.”

“Put some sunglasses on then, I don’t care. This isn’t about you.”

“Yes, yes, it’s about your terribly named cat,” Andrés says, but he’s already pulling clothes out of his dresser.

Martín clears his throat as Andrés undresses and Andrés can feel him watching. “I also figure you owe me for leaving broken glass outside my room last night.”

“How do you know it was me?” Andrés asks evasively as he pulls on a pair of slacks.

Martín rolls his eyes. “Please, as if anyone else here drinks wine that pretentious. What happened, Sergio didn’t want to drink with you so you smashed the glass in anger?”

Andrés doesn’t answer, concentrating on buttoning his shirt.

“Whatever,” Martín sighs. “You could have at least cleaned it up, someone could have cut their foot on that.”

Andrés pulls a jumper on over his shirt. “By someone I assume you mean Helsinki as no one else would be leaving your room in the middle of the night.”

Martín blushes, but raises his chin defiantly. “That’s none of your business.”

“Of course not,” Andrés says, slipping into his loafers. “Alright, let’s go ingeniero. Where’s your cat?”

Martín hesitates. “Don’t call me that,” he mutters. “He’s in my room.”

Andrés grabs the car keys that Sergio had indeed given to him for safekeeping and follows Martín through the still quiet halls of the monastery.

He waits outside as Martín enters his room and comes back with Berlin. The little beast does look fairly subdued, almost limp in Martín’s arms.

“What’s wrong with him?” Andrés asks as they walk to the car. “I saw him outside last night and he looked fine.”

Martín strokes Berlin’s head. “I don’t know. He threw up a few times and he’s been really lethargic since then.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Andrés says, attempting to sound sympathetic.

“I know that,” Martín says defensively. “I just want to make sure. He’s all I have.”

They reach the car and Andrés unlocks it, ignoring the pang in his chest at Martín’s words. “What about Helsinki?” he asks as he slides into the driver’s seat.

Martín shrugs. “It’s nothing serious, just blowing off some steam.”

Andrés nods and starts the car. “Ready?”

“Wait, can you hold him a minute? So I can buckle myself in?” Martín asks, giving Berlin to Andrés before he can protest.

Thankfully Berlin doesn’t do much, just watches Andrés balefully. Andrés hands him back as soon as he hears Martín’s seatbelt click into place. Martín settles Berlin onto his lap, carefully holding him in place and Andrés puts the car in gear.

They drive in silence which is only broken by Martín murmuring reassurances to the cat. There’s a small vet clinic in the next town over and generally Andrés would insist that they go further, but Martín’s eyes haven’t left Berlin for the whole drive and he looks miserable.

The clinic seems to have just opened, unsurprising since it’s only a few minutes past eight. Andrés holds Berlin briefly again so Martín can undo his seatbelt and open the door.

“Good luck,” he says and Martín nods, before shutting the door with his elbow and hurrying into the building.

Andrés leans back in his seat and waits. He’s tired, but he knows better than to sleep. He needs to stay alert, make sure no one sees them. Sergio is probably going to give him hell for this, but Andrés doesn’t care. It’s not like he and Martín just popped out to get brunch or go for dinner.

It feels like hours, but when he glances at the clock when the car door opens, Martín has been gone for less than thirty minutes. He’s still carrying Berlin and a little paper baggy, but he looks much happier, almost like the Martín that Andrés used to know.

“What did they say?” Andrés asks, accepting Berlin while Martín buckles himself in again.

Martín takes Berlin back and smiles. “They said he probably ate something that didn’t agree with him and that he’s feeling sorry for himself, but that it wasn’t anything dangerous. They gave me some medicine to help settle his stomach and said I only need to come back if he doesn’t get better.”

Andrés can’t help but smile too as he pulls away and drive out of the village. “Well, that’s good news.” He turns to look at Berlin. “That’ll teach you to eat things you shouldn’t,” he says, ignoring the way his stomach flips when Martín laughs.

“I knew you didn’t hate him.”

Andrés clears his throat. “Yes, well. He’s not horrible.”

Martín laughs again and reaches forward to turn on the radio. It turns out to be some horrible Italian folk station, but Martín sings along anyway, terribly butchering the lyrics.

Andrés shakes his head, trying to hide his fond smile.

The minute they’re out of the car and inside the walls of the monastery, Berlin starts to struggle in Martín’s arms. Martín sighs but puts him down, watching as he darts off.

“Don’t eat anything weird, gatito!” he calls and Andrés laughs.

“I guess he’s feeling better,” he says and Martín nods.

“He’s a little bastard,” Martín says fondly. “Can you believe I spent two-hundred euros on that vet’s visit and now look at him.”

Andrés smiles again. “We do what we can for our family.”

The joyful expression on Martín’s face dims a little. “I suppose so. Well, thank you for driving. I’m going to… I’m going to go get some breakfast. I’m sorry for waking you so early.”

“No, it’s okay,” Andrés says. “Any time.”

Martín’s face twitches into a hesitant smile and he turns and walks across the courtyard.

“Martín, wait!” Andrés calls and Martín stops in his tracks. Andrés hurries over to him as he turns, a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Martín asks and Andrés swears his heart stutters with relief that despite everything there is still concern for him on Martín’s face.

Andrés smooths his jumper. “I just… why did you name your cat Berlin?”

“What?”

“Why is he called that?” Andrés asks, stepping closer.

Martín’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand, why does it matter?”

“Just… tell me please?”

Martín crosses his arms. “Why is your heist name Berlin?”

“I asked first,” Andrés says with a grin and Martín sighs.

“You know why.”

“I want you to say it.”

“Goddammit, Andrés!” Martín yells. “What do you want me to say? That it’s because that’s where we met?”

Andrés nods. “I was casing the KaDeWe. And I realised you were doing the same thing.”

“Yes,” Martín says slowly. “And I thought you were a police officer when you grabbed me and asked why I was looking at the cameras.”

Andrés just grins. “Now ask me again why I’m called Berlin?”

Martín runs a hand across his face, looking exasperated. “Why are you called Berlin?”

“Same reason,” Andrés says and then pulls Martín into a kiss.

Martín responds instantly, arms wrapping around Andrés’ waist, face angling perfectly, as if this was their thousandth kiss instead of their second. Andrés buries a hand in Martín’s soft hair, moaning into the kiss. It’s better than five years ago, better than anything he’s ever experienced.

Suddenly Martín is pulling away, pushing Andrés off him. “Wait,” he pants, hand held out to keep Andrés at a distance. “What the fuck was that? Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” Andrés says, grabbing Martín’s hand and reeling him back in. “Because I should have done it a while ago. Because I love you and because I never should have left in the first place.”

“Is that all?” Martín asks weakly and Andrés grins.

“I told you we were soulmates, I wouldn’t lie about that. I didn’t lie about loving you either. I want to be with you, so it all depends on whether you can forgive me?”

Andrés stares at Martín, loving the way he can see the gears turning in his ingeniero’s beautiful brain. “You’re an asshole,” Martín says eventually. “And you owe me a massive apology, because you’re not forgiven yet.”

“But?” Andrés prompts.

Martín sighs. “But you’re a fool if you think I don’t still love you.”

“I’ll buy you something nice,” Andrés teases as he pulls Martín in for another kiss.

Martín scowls when they part. “You’ll do a lot more than that.”

“Of course, mi amor,” Andrés says indulgently, kissing him again.

He revels in the feeling of Martín’s lips against his, how solid he feels in his arms, the way he smells, the little sounds he’s making. Andrés could live in this moment forever.

Except there’s a very loud meowing sound coming from next to him, and then very sharp claws digging into his shoe.

“Ow, what the fuck?” he exclaims, pulling away from Martín to see Berlin sitting on his foot, a ribbon dangling from his mouth.

Berlin meows again and Martín crouches down next to him. “What do you have there, mi niño guapo? What did you find? A ribbon! Good boy, Berlin, you’re such a good boy.”

Andrés watches in confusion as Martín continues to shower his cat with ridiculous amounts of praise.

“Martín?” Andrés asks and has to repeat his name three more times before he looks up. “Weren’t we kind of in the middle of something?”

Martín frowns. “I can’t just ignore him, Andrés.”

Andrés sighs, crouching down next to Martín and Berlin. “I’m going to be passed over a lot because of this cat, aren’t I?”

Martín grins as he watches Andrés gently stroke along Berlin’s back. “Well one of you was there for me for the last five years, and the other was an asshole.”

Andrés presses a kiss to Martín’s cheek. “I said I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“You didn't actually, but don’t worry. After the heist you’ll have lots of time to make up for it.”

* * *

Why they all had to live on the same island, still isn’t clear to Andrés, but he’s given up asking. Every time he does, Sergio starts talking about statistics and one of the women will start yapping about family.

At the end of the day, Andrés doesn’t care. He has a nice house, nice clothes, and Martín – who is definitely still pissed about Andrés leaving him for five years, but takes it out on him in quite fun ways that had once nearly scarred Rio for life when he walked into their house without knocking.

Today way Martín’s birthday – the first one any of them had on the island – and everyone was gathered in their backyard. Martín was salsa dancing on the terrace with Raquel, trying to show the steps to Paula who was blushing as she danced with Rio.

“Oh my god, why is Berlin wearing a tie?” Nairobi suddenly asks and Andrés looks down at his outfit.

“It’s a formal occasion,” he says with a frown. “The real question is why none of the rest of the men are?”

Nairobi glares at him. “Not you, Berlin. The other Berlin,” she says as Bogota mumbles something about it being too hot for ties.

Andrés turns to see where she’s pointing and sees the cat trotting across the garden, the tie he had put him in earlier askew. He crouches down, clicking his tongue until Berlin comes close enough to be picked up. Andrés straightens the cat's tie and then turns back to Nairobi with Berlin still in his arms.

“Like I said, it’s a formal occasion. And cat-Berlin knows the dress code,” he says primly.

Tokyo takes a large gulp of her cocktail – some sort of extremely alcoholic drink Denver had invented in Martín’s honour. “Oh my god, there’s two of them. Palermo adopted the cat version of you.”

The music changes and Martín suddenly appears at Andrés’ side, a little sweaty from all his dancing. He tickles Berlin’s chin. “What are we talking about?”

“The fact that human-Berlin is such a stickler about dress-codes that he put your cat in a tie,” Nairobi says.

Martín laughs. “Sure, that’s why. It’s not because he thinks it’s super cute to dress up Berlin and had a whole selection of neckwear made.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Andrés says.

“I’m sure you will, but if you do, who will help you pick out Berlin’s neckerchief of the day?” Martín asks, pressing a kiss to Andrés’ cheek as the others erupt into laughter.

Andrés uses his free hand to pull Martín into a proper kiss. Martín’s had his fair share of birthday cocktails and is a little more handsy than appropriate for company, pulling Andrés tight against him. They’re interrupted by an indignant meow and Berlin jumps out of Andrés’ hold, dashing across the garden to sit between Helsinki’s feet.

For his part, Helsinki just laughs and feeds Berlin some of the chicken off his plate.

“You’re terrible parents,” Bogota informs them and Martín flips him off.

Andrés takes a seat at the table, tugging Martín down into his lap. “We’re good cat parents,” he says into Martín’s neck.

Martín laughs and kisses the top of Andrés’ head. “Of course we are, cariño. Bogota doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, comments, kudos, cat related facts?
> 
> fun fact (maybe?) the thing cat-berlin does with the ribbon is what my cat Freddie does. He has an entire box of different ribbons and he carries them about the house, yelling until you tell him he's a good boy. it's both cute and inconvenient
> 
> stop by to yell at me on my tumblr? ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com))


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